The Hospitable Hostel
by Very Fluent Dramatist
Summary: Unless you are interested in a bad birthday, the return of a vile villian, and a cunning kidnapping, do not read. If you are intrerested in that sort of thing, and why else would you be in the ASOUE section, enjoy this story about Violet's 18th birthday
1. Chapter 1

I don't own the characters of organizations in this story. They belong to Lemony Snicket and Daniel Handler, but you already knew that.

Chapter One 

Though the words hostile and hostel sound very much alike and are easy to confuse, they have entirely different meanings. Whereas hostile means _characteristic of an enemy_, hostel refers to _a supervised, inexpensive lodging for young travelers_. It was Klaus who had named Lemony Snicket's two-bedroom apartment "the hostel." After publishing the books that cleared both his and the Baudelaires' names and sent Count Olaf into hiding, Lemony had offered his apartment to the Baudelaire and Quagmire orphans. Though the apartment was still kept in Snicket's name and he paid the rent; for him it was more of a storage area than a permanent dwelling. He would often stop in to pick up important papers or drop of photographs and maybe even spend a couple of nights on the couch. However, his work, tracking down Count Olaf while researching various varieties of villainy kept him away most of the time. Justice Strauss used to spend every free moment at the apartment to act as a supervisor to the children, but she soon realized that these young ones had taken care of themselves in more dire circumstances than a small apartment with a leaking sink. So her visits soon became much less frequent and much more lighthearted. All in all, the hostel was a cozy place. Though it was difficult for five teenagers and a very mature child to share the same bathroom, the place was warm, dry and quiet, and the company was wonderful. Nonetheless, the children knew it was merely a stopping point and not a permanent dwelling. Soon they would be moving on from this lodging, and this particular day signified that very event.

If you've ever been to a birthday party you know that there are three essentials that are almost always at hand: cake, singing and presents. If you have never been to a birthday party then I am very sorry. Four of the children at this party were singing loudly and slightly off key. Violet was looking modestly at her lap and Sunny was carrying a large chocolate cake that she had just frosted that morning. At the young age of five, Sunny was easily the best cook at the apartment. This is not to say that the others were terrible; in fact Isadora Quagmire could whip up the most wonderful tuna noodle casserole, but rather that Sunny had spent so much time and effort on her art that she had turned herself into quite the prodigy. She proudly laid the cake on the table before Violet. There were no candles as fire was viewed with suspicion and fear by everyone at he hostel.

Once the song was over Quigley read the letters scrawled in purple script, "Happy 18th Birthday, Violet!" The children cheered as Isadora cut the cake and Klaus plopped ice-cream onto plates.

"Sunny, this cake is delicious," declared Violet.

"Ummm Hmmm," mumbled Klaus in between bites, "And your writing is really coming along. We could all make out the frosting letters this time, and not just because we knew what they should say."

As Sunny replied with a confident, "thank you," the conversation shifted to the birthday girl and her many achievements. There was much to talk about. Violet had been named head inventor in charge of new machinery at V.F.D. just that day. She would graduate from High School soon and had received scholarship offers from many prestigious universities. Though the children knew she would study at V.F.D. and dedicate herself full time to the Volunteers, the scholarships triangulated Violet's intelligence and hard work. Triangulate is a word that means proved something that many people already knew. It comes from nautical language describing a situation in which navigators at two locations are used to judge the location of a ship. One navigator would triangulate the findings of the other; just as each new honor Violet received triangulated the children's high opinion of her talent. These wonderful events kept the young people from mentioning an enormous change that would affect all of them this day, the change they had been anticipating for quite some time.

Once everyone was full of sugar they moved to the living room to lounge on couches, and more comfortable chairs while Violet opened her presents. Klaus and Sunny had gotten her a tool kit that she had been eyeing for quite some time. Duncan had found a great book on the life of Thomas Edison.

"You probably already know everything in that book," he added sheepishly.

"No," countered Violet. "I'm sure there's some new information. I can always pick up something new. It really is a great book."

Isadora had found a wonderful black purse that was large enough to carry a novel and the oldest Baudeliare's commonplace notebook. She began to keep the notebook after her work with V.F.D. became more official.

Quigley's gift was perhaps the most surprising. It was an amethyst necklace and matching earrings. "Oh, Quigley, you shouldn't have."

"Do you like them?"

"Of course. They're beautiful, but they must of cost a fortune."

"Well. . ." Quigley smiled and looked down. Though each of the children had a fortune tucked away for them, no one could access it until he or she turned eighteen. Violet wondered if Quigley had managed to save his bank allowances, or had been working to earn extra money on the side. He was often missing from the hostel, but with school and training, no one was ever there all the time. The oldest Baudelaire looked down into the small box and noticed a folded piece of paper.

"What's this?"

"Oh, it's just a poem I ran across in the library," remarked Quigley casually. "I thought you might like it."

"Read it," demanded Isadora.

"Okay," Violet unfolded the paper slowly and began to read.

Alone 

_By Maya Angelou_

_Lying, thinking_

_Last night_

_How to find my soul a home_

_Where water is not thirsty_

_And bread loaf is not stone_

_I came up with one thing _

_And I don't believe We're wrong_

_That nobody,_

_But nobody_

_Can make it out here alone._

_Alone, all alone_

_Nobody, but nobody_

_Can make it out away alone._

_Now if you listen closely_

_I'll tell them what I know_

_Storm clouds is gathering_

_The wind is gonna blow_

_The race of man is suffering_

_And I can hear the moan,_

_Cause nobody,_

_But anybody_

_Can make if out here alone._

_Alone, all unaided_

_Nobody, but nobody _

_Can make it out here alone._

"I love Maya Angelou!" exclaimed Isadora.

"Yeah, that was great," said Sunny.

"Sounds like you got a typo in the second to last stanza," Duncan piped in. "It should be _it_, not _if_."

"Oops, my mistake," said Quigley, but he was looking hard at Violet as if he was trying to tell her something. The oldest Baudelaire had always had a felling that the Quagmire triplet liked her, but since that afternoon, years ago when they had climbed the frozen waterfall, nothing had happened between them. Maybe it was the others that made him nervous, or maybe their close living quarters were problematic. Still, Violet thought Quigley might be trying to tell her more than the poem indicated.

At that moment the ring of a doorbell jostled Violet from her thoughts. Klaus walked over to the call button and pressed it.

"Hello?"

"Hello. . cough. . . cough," came the voice over the intercom system.

"Mr. Poe," smiled Klaus, "just a minute, I'll buzz you in."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two 

The boy pressed the button to allow access to the building. In a few moments there was a knock at the door. The banker bustled in and smiled at the group.

"Happy Birthday, Violet!" he said unbuttoning his coat. "I rushed over as soon as my work at he bank was complete." From under the jacket he procured two packages wrapped in bright paper. "Here, this is from me." He handed the first to Violet. "And Mr. Snicket sent this to the bank; said he didn't want you to get it before your birthday."

Violet opened the first present and thanked Mr. Poe kindly for the dress, even though it was a bit too pastel for the girl's tastes. She wondered if Isadora would like to borrow it. She was about to set Lemony's package aside, but everyone clamored for her to open it right away. As she pealed back the paper, she was surprised to see a book by Maya Angelou called _Oh Pray My Wings Are Gonna Fit Me Well_. She looked up at Quigley, a bit confused. The boy just smiled and looked down.

"Hey," said Duncan, "Is that the book that your poem came from, Quigley?"

"I think so," said Quigley. "What a coincidence."

"Oh, I'm so jealous!" said Isadora. "I don't have that one. Can I borrow it?"

"Of course," said Violet, "but not tonight. There's a poem I want to look at closer." She smiled back at Quigley.

"Well," interjected the banker, "that just leaves one matter." This was the announcement at everyone was anticipating. "Violet, since you are eighteen, you stand to inherit the Baudelaire fortune." He pulled one more package from under his coat, a large beige envelope. Duncan wondered how much the banker could fit under that gigantic overcoat and weather or not he should buy one for himself. "These documents allow you to sign the money over to whomever you wish. I assume it will be to you and your siblings, but you don't have to rush. It's Friday night, which means that the bank won't be open until Monday. Take your time and read the papers carefully. Once you have taken control of the fortune, I will be happy to act as your advisor, but the money will be yours to use entirely as you wish. I must admit, I am a bit nervous about all of this. It's a lot of money for anyone, let alone a girl of eighteen, but you children have proven to be responsible and resourceful. I'm sure everything will be fine. I must be on my way now. I'll see you, Violet, in the bank on Monday." Then the banker erupted into a fit of coughing.

Violet nodded and Mr. Poe waved and walked out. The children could hear his coughing as he walked down the hall to the stairwell.

For a long while the others stared at the oldest Baudelaire in silence. They knew that whatever decision she came to about how to spend the money; their lives would never be the same. Eventually someone started talking, but not about money, banks or documents. The discussion was about school, the weather and other mundane topics. Violet was distant at first, but eventually joined in the chatter that lasted long into the evening. Finally she looked at the clock and realized that it was well past Sunny's bedtime, then looked at the child who had fallen asleep, her head in Klaus' lap. Violet nodded to her brother, who picked up his little sister, placed her in bed and removed her shoes. He then tucked the blankets carefully around her and kissed her on the forehead before leaving the room.

The talk of school and VFD training became more forced until; finally, Quigley asked the question they had been avoiding.

"What will you do, Violet?"

"Well I suppose I'll sign one third of the fortune to Sunny, a third to Klaus and one third to myself. An even split seems only fair."

"We figured that," said Isadora, "but what will you do with the money? You probably won't want to live here anymore."

"I really haven't given it much thought," Violet answered truthfully. Between graduating and preparing to work full time at V.F.D., Violet hadn't had much time to think about the future. And on this night she had been trying to determine what Quigley meant by his present and poem. "How about you, Klaus?"

"Oh, I guess I've though about it, but my ideas are more daydreams than actual plans. Besides, I'm still too young to live alone, so I'll either follow you or stay here under the guardianship of Mr. Snicket and Justice Strauss."

"You're right," Violet agreed. "There's no reason to change things right away. I know Mr. Snicket says this phrase is silly, but I really need to sleep on it."

"Speaking of sleep," injected Duncan, "I'm getting pretty tired. Why don't we clean up and get to bed."

Violet tried to grab some dishes from the table but was stopped by Isadora, "Oh no you don't. The birthday girl does not have to do the dishes. You go to bed, we'll handle this."

Violet smiled graciously, picked up the jewelry box with the poem from Quigley and the book from Lemony and disappeared into her room.

In spite of being the first one to bed, Violet was the last one to turn off her bedside lamp. Sunny didn't mind because she was already asleep, and Isadora was used to it. There were many nights when one or the other teenage girl would stay up late reading a V.F.D. manual, a book of poems, or the life of some famous inventor.

On this night, Violet had tied up her hair, pulled the sheet up over her and, in the dim blue light that filtered through, was trying to decipher Quigley's code. She had opened Maya Angelou's book and was comparing it with the handwritten version.

In the seventh line Quigley had written, "_and I don't believe We're wrong."_ It should have been _I'm_ instead of _We're_. Violet copied _I'm_ into the margin of the boy's note. In the second line of the third measure, he had written, "_can make it out away alone."_ It should have been _here_ not _away_. She wrote _here_ next to _I'm_. In the third measure of Quigley's poem, she found _them _instead of _you, is _instead of _are_, _anybody _instead of _nobody_ and _if _instead of _it. _Finally, in the last measure, to boy had written _unaided_ instead of _alone._

Violet looked down at the words she had written. _I'm here. You are nobody it alone." _She bit her lower lip; that didn't quite make sense. Maybe he wasn't using the Verse Fluctuation Declaration exactly as it was typically used. What if instead of changing entire words, he just changed parts, since was pretty difficult to find a poem with the exact words you wanted to use. Since he only changed the first part of _nobody_ to _any_, maybe he only intended to use the first part of the word. Violet crossed out _nobody _and wrote _no_ above it. Instead of changing the entire word _it_, he had only changed the _t_ to _f_. She crossed out _it_ and wrote _t_.

"_I'm here. You are not alone."_ That was better. Violet sighed as she reread the phrase. The expression, _you are not alone_ can be either reassuring or terrifying depending on weather it is said by an enemy or a friend. I once received a similar note and jumped from my two-story balcony to land on the Holstein that was waiting to gallop me away to safety.

Of course Violet did not have to evacuate the apartment, since Quigley was not an enemy. As he was, in fact, a dear friend, his sentiment was very dear to Violet. She remained staring at the paper long into the night before, at last, tucking the poem under her pillow and turning out her lamp.

Just before dozing off she heard the sound of movement in the bedroom. At first, this seemed odd because she was sure Isadora had already fallen asleep, but she concluded that the triplet much have gotten up to get a drink or use the restroom and continued to drift into a contented sleep.

Incidentally, Isadora concluded the same thing about the eldest Baudelaire when the same noises jostled her from her dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. I'm sorry this took so long, but I don't have access to the internet and can only update when I can visit others who do. That's also why I review so rarely, I wish I could read many more fanfics! The ones I have read so far have been great. On with the story.

**Chapter Three**

Though the last one asleep, Violet was the first one awake. The oldest Baudelaire always woke early to set out some things for breakfast before the others arrived hungrily into the kitchen. This morning she walked over to the dresser and opened the jewelry case that she had received the night before. As she fingered the silver chain, he eyes fell on a note lying on her dresser. She quietly unfolded it as she moved closer to the light from the window. It was written on V.F.D. stationary in somewhat scrawling script.

_Happy Eighteenth Birthday, Violet!_ She smiled and wondered whom it could be from.

_I have been waiting a long time for this day to arrive. You are not alone._

_Sinisterly Yours,_

_Count Olaf_

The smile vanished from Violet's visage. This was certainly not a reassuring note. In fact, it was terrifying. None at the hostel had heard in over a year from the villain that had caused them so much trouble. When they had first moved in to the apartment there had been a few threats and some aborted abduction schemes, but all that had subsided a long time ago. Violet had assumed that running from the authorities and Lemony Snicket kept the Count too busy for villainy. After reading the note, however, she realized that he had been just biding his time. Not only that, but clearly he, or one of his henchmen, had stolen unnoticed into the hostel at least once.

Violet tried to clear her head; she needed to think. Should she wake her siblings and the Quagmires? She thought of all the dreadful events they had suffered at the hand of the criminal. Could she put them through all that again, after all these years? On the other hand, could she face Olaf without them?

Violet decided to call Justice Straus first. It was something the inventor could do without leaving the apartment or waking the others. Listening carefully in case there were still criminals in the building, she walked slowly towards the living room and the phone. Every time her foot hit the floor, Violet nearly jumped at the noise. Finally, she reached the telephone and picked it up. Yet, after holding it to her ear, she quickly, but gently placed it back on the receiver. It was dead.

The oldest Baudelaire stood frozen in the living room for what seemed like hours, but was really less than a minute.

She weighed her options carefully; a phrase that does not mean she placed each on a scale to measure it, but that she considered the merits of each. As far as she could tell, there was no decision that held many merits. If she woke the others up, they would be thrown back into the world of running, scheming and trying to survive, in short, the world of Olaf. If she walked to the Justice's house, she would be alone and exposed on the streets and her siblings and friends would be left sleeping unaware in an apartment to which villains had access. If she went on her own to confront Olaf, she would be on her own confronting Olaf, that is, if she could even find him.

"Violet, Violet what are you doing?"

A sleepy voice derailed her train of thought. She looked over and saw Quigley standing at the door of his room.

"I'm thinking," Violet managed to utter.

"You have a lot to think about," Quigley said quietly as he stepped closer. "But you know. . ." His voice trailed off.

"I know," to her surprise, Violet smiled, "I am not alone." Suddenly everything became clear. The first note she had received last night, though written by the cartographer, could have been expressed by anyone at the hostel. They all felt the same way, including her. They were together and always would be, no matter what. Her smile faded, "Quigley, I have to show you something."

Moving quietly to her room, Violet retrieved the second note and placed it in Quigley's outstretched hand. His expectant grin slowly changed to a look of dismay, "Oh, Violet."

"I know," said the Baudelaire. "I thought we were through with him."

"Have you tried to contact Justice Straus or Lemony Snicket?"

"The phone is dead."

"Let's wake the others." Quigley moved slowly to his room.

After returning to her room Violet roused Isadora. "We need to have a meeting."

"Now?" the Quagmire questioned dreamily.

"Yes," Violet looked into her sleep filled eyes, "It's important."

Without another word Isadora moved to the living room. The inventor picked up her little sibling and carried her to the couch. After setting Sunny down and gently shaking her to be sure she was awake, Violet looked around at each face in the room. The only way to do this, she decided, was quickly.

"I found a letter on my dresser this morning." The oldest Baudelaire looked at Quigley who handed it the paper her. She read it straight through and paused afterward to allow everyone time to digest it.

"And the phone is dead," Quigley added after a moment.

"Are you sure," Duncan began slowly. "Are you sure, someone isn't playing a joke on you?"

"Duncan!" his sister scolded. "No one here would do such a horrible thing."

"I know," sighed the journalist, "I just hoped we wouldn't have to. . ."

'I understand," commented Violet, "we all hoped we had seen the last of Count Olaf. We have several options, none of which have much merit. We could run and go into hiding again; we could go to Justice Straus' house and ask for help, or we could remain and wait."

"We can't hide again," said Sunny seriously. Though the five year old had only vague memories of life on the run, she remembered the overall feelings of helplessness and fear. They were feelings that everyday she tried to forget.

Klaus nodded to his little sister. "We can't just wait and see what will happen to us either."

"So," Isadora stated, "we go to Justice Straus' house."

Violet thought for a moment. "I woke you because you all need to decide. You are not all in danger."

"We can't be sure about that," Klaus injected.

"Right," Violet continued, "but Olaf mainly wants me. I don't know if I can manage alone, but I will try if that's what you decide."

"No," said Quigley sternly, "I'm here. You are not alone."

"Me too!" said Isadora who was echoed by Duncan.

"We need you as much as you need us," reminded Klaus.

Sunny looked at her sister and silently slipped her hand into Violet's. It was a gesture that she had used to communicate with her sister since long before she could speak clearly, and by it she usually meant, "I'm with you. I may not be able to do much, but we are together." This motion always reassured both sisters.

The oldest Baudelaire went into action. "Everyone, get dressed, get your coats, and grab a slice of bread or some cereal. We don't know when we'll eat again."

In moments the group was assembled at the apartment entrance. As they shuffled out into the hall, Violet closed the door and locked it. Together, the Baudelaires and Quagmires made their way out of the building and into the cold morning


End file.
